If you give a mom a Mocha at 7AM, she'll have the kids dressed and fed on time. And then, she'll return home from the daily drop-off line and throw a load of laundry in.
On her way back up from the laundry room, she'll see the toys on the floor and bend down to straighten them. In the midst of picking up, she'll take a phone call and run upstairs for a pen. Talking on the phone will remind her that she needs to schedule her daughter's appointment by 10:00. She'll be on hold on the doctor's line until then.
While waiting on the line, she'll throw her second load in. She'll open up the garage door and wheel out the garbage bin. Taking out the trash, she'll notice snowflakes falling to the ground. She'll cradle the phone on one shoulder and her son on her hip. She'll take him out barefoot to catch snowflakes with their lips.
She'll come back inside to find the dogs have captured the baby' binky. She'll holler and yell and give them commands like crazy. Realizing her technique isn't working, she'll train them correctly, instead. With jubilation that the puppies are fixed, she'll let them outside and catch a glimpse of the clock. Now calling her son to be dressed to his shoes, she'll race to the van to gather her daughter from school.
The doctor will say all is fine. All is good. So it's off to McDonald's to get the kids some food. And back to the school she'll deliver her dear. And back home she'll return, glad that naptime is near.
As she gathers the young ones and brings them inside, she'll notice the trees by the door have no lights. She'll come back to the basement to find extension cords. But soon she'll remember she has all of those loads. She'll remove one from the dryer and one from the wash. She'll toss the cords in the basket and bring them all up at once.
Out on the porch in just stocking feet, she'll arrange the tree branches, spraying on touches of snow. She'll open the door to see dogs peeing on the floor. She'll shoo them outside and grab up the spray. Cleaning the floors wasn't on the list of to dos today.
She'll take another call and sit down to send email. The baby will cry and pull at her diaper. She'll sigh and turn on TV for a break. Changing the baby, she will then take and put her to bed with the middle one in tow. "Go back and watch TV. It's your favorite show."
She'll sit down beside him and fold while he watches. And together, they'll climb down the stairs for more boxes of clothes. A total of 7 for the day. Loads go down dirty but they don't stay that way.
Same goes for toy rooms. At once such a clutter, together the two will make less of the matter. She'll clean and he'll play and take out what she picks up. And soon they will notice the time on the clock.
Out the door they will run up to the bus stop. To gather the children and one extra for sup. "Mom," he will say, "my vocab test isn't today. But the day after tomorrow, so after we pray at dinner, can we practice the words?" He wants to learn all of them, not just a third.
She'll begin to drill him while she makes them their meal. Daddy won't be home for a while it feels. "Mommy," she says, "I need paper bags. Tomorrow we're doing cave art with Miss Mims." So she'll gather the children and overdue books. She'll take them to the library and then off to Schnuck's.
Upon returning home, she'll go back outside with the oldest. To show him the 'mold' growing from the tallest of trees. (A vocab word, you see.) "It's moss," Dad will say and she'll silently count to three. Off she will go into the cold night to find 'rust.' Hands-on learning while cramming for tests is a must.
When finally the kids are all off to bed, she'll sit down to the computer before resting her head. She'll sip of the wine that's been awaiting her since six. She'll smile and remember her early morning fix. Tomorrow reveals much of the same. It's called the stay-at-home mommy game.